Observing and reflecting on global stories we tell to persuade, understand and relate to each other.

July 2012

30 July 2012

I was talking with my sister about a life coaching exercise. The purpose of the exercise was to come up with a list of personal needs to ferret out whether they were met or denied and what to do about it.

26 July 2012

I've been reluctant to kick the hornet's nest on this one. Folks seem pretty divided on The Reptile Theory. Like Paris - you either love it or you hate it.

The notion that we should regard jurors as reptiles to get some huge verdict out of them by playing to their fears has always struck me as cold-blooded, and not a little inhuman. How we regard people and things becomes how we treat them. I felt so strongly about this I co-wrote an article with Stephanie West Allen and Jeffrey Schwartz for The Jury Expert entitled "Atticus Finch Would Not Approve." [Click AllenSchwartzWyzgaTJEMay2010 to read.] My position has only strengthened.

I used to work with a beekeeper who insisted on calling the honeybees "really angry" when they reacted to us opening the hive boxes. He treated them as if they were somehow "really angry." He over-smoked them. He was tense, jumpy and afraid. His physical actions conveyed fear. At the end of the day working with him I was a wreck.

And yet, there was nothing to fear. We were suited up for the job. We would get head-bonked by some of the guard bees; but that was normal behavior. No bees chased us or swarmed us. A honeybee has to be truly threatened to sting; when she does she rips out her guts and dies. Not an action to be taken lightly.

When I was trained as a beekeeper I was told to remember, "No jerks in the beeyard." While I have not yet gotten to the stage where I will work my hives wearing only a veil, I know that to bee Zen keeps everyone - beekeepers and honeybees - calm.

It works with people, too. The Science of Compassion by the social scientist David DeSteno writing for the NYTimes shares the results of scientific research that shows empathy with the suffering of others is alive and well. Excerpt:

"As a social psychologist interested in the emotions, I long wondered whether this spiritual understanding of compassion was also scientifically accurate. Empirically speaking, does the experience of compassion toward one person measurably affect our actions and attitudes toward other people? If so, are there practical steps we can take to further cultivate this feeling? Recently, my colleagues and I conducted experiments that answered yes to both questions.

In one experiment, designed with the psychologist Paul Condon and published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, we recruited people to take part in a study that was ostensibly about the relation of mathematical ability to taste perception — but that in actuality was a study of how the experience of compassion affects your behavior.

In another study, published in the journal Emotion, the psychologist Piercarlo Valdesolo and I conducted an experiment ostensibly about music perception — but that actually investigated how feelings of compassion might be increased.

Our hunch was that compassion is easiest to feel when you have a sense of commonality with someone else."

And what did the scientists find? Excerpt:

"What these results suggest is that the compassion we feel for others is not solely a function of what befalls them: if our minds draw an association between a victim and ourselves — even a relatively trivial one — the compassion we feel for his or her suffering is amplified greatly.

What does this mean for cultivating compassion in society? It means that effortful adherence to religious or philosophical dictums (often requiring meditation, prayer or moral education), though clearly valuable and capable of producing results, is not the only way to go. There is nothing special about tapping in synchrony; any such commonality will do. Increased compassion for one’s neighbor, for instance, can come from something as easy as encouraging yourself to think of him as (say) a fan of the same local restaurant instead of as a member of a different ethnicity.

Simply learning to mentally recategorize one another in terms of commonalities would generate greater empathy among all of us — and foster social harmony in a fairly effortless way."

I am not Pollyanna enough to believe that I can buy someone a Coke and the world will live in perfect harmony.

I agree that there is fear in the world. Look at everything from video games to the nightly news to the most recent midnight movie massacre in Aurora, CO. You will get more than your share of a diet of human suffering.

But fear does nothing to improve the situation - fear causes us to hide, bar the doors, become complacent. Ironically, when we feel an empathy, a compassion for the situation we will act - whether for gun control, mental health, local food, a jury verdict, whatever. How does it work this way?

"What these results suggest is that the compassion we feel for others is not solely a function of what befalls them: if our minds draw an association between a victim and ourselves — even a relatively trivial one — the compassion we feel for his or her suffering is amplified greatly."

Like my friend the angry beekeeper, you get what you name. Whether or not the honeybees were "really angry," he perceived them as such and treated them that way. It was how he perceived them that created the expectation of harm.

I've had enough of fear. I prefer to be on the side of those who encourage a deep compassion for human suffering and from that place articulate for action to lessen the plight of others.

"Once upon a time there was a stubborn child who never did what his mother told him to do. The dear Lord, therefore, did not look kindly upon him, and let him become sick. No doctor could cure him and in a short time he lay on his deathbed. After he was lowered into his grave and covered over with earth, one of his little arms suddenly emerged and reached up into the air. They pushed it back down and covered the earth with fresh earth, but that did not help. The little arm kept popping out. So the child’s mother had to go to the grave herself and smack the little arm with a switch. After she had done that, the arm withdrew, and then, for the first time, the child had peace beneath the earth."

With this grim opener Acocella takes us on a journey of deep, dark, cruel, violent, and downright frightening fairy tales as constructed by the Grimms' Brothers which, some might argue could actually be good for children and helpful to us. Excerpt.

"This story, with its unvarnished prose, should be clear, but it isn’t. Was the child buried alive? The unconsenting arm looks more like a symbol. And what about the mother? Didn’t it trouble her to whip that arm? Then we are told that the youngster, after this beating, rested in peace. Really? When, before, he had seemed to beg for life? But the worst thing in the story is that, beyond disobedience, it gives us not a single piece of information about the child. No name, no age, no pretty or ugly. We don’t even know if it is a boy or a girl. (The Grimms used ein Kind, the neuter word for “child.” Zipes decided that the child was a boy.) And so the tale, without details to attach it to anything in particular, becomes universal. Whatever happened there, we all deserve it. A. S. Byatt has written that this is the real terror of the story: “It doesn’t feel like a warning to naughty infants. It feels like a glimpse of the dreadful side of the nature of things.” That is true of very many of the Grimms’ tales, even those with happy endings."

Is this the hook? The universal message is both alluring and terrorizing.

Following along the wooded path of Acocella's work you will become engaged in folklore research, creative thought, versions of fairy tales, opposing viewpoints, reasoned proposals to revise the tales, and the ongoing mysteries of literary criticism.

Every time I turn around there is yet another post exhorting the reader to watch a speaker on TED, see a certain movie, read this book, take that course, and so on to "become a storyteller."

How come that irks me?

Here's the thing about storytelling: it's not just something you do - it's who you are, who you declare yourself to be.

Yes, I have written and spoken about "homo narrans" - a term coined by my former University of San Diego law school professor Steve Hartwell in a law review article on narrative. The term translates to mean that we are story people or narrating people. It means that we relate to each other in a form of narrative we call 'story.'

On the one hand we are all storytellers. On the other not all storytellers are created equal. Here's the difference. Think of stage and screen actors. Some merely posture while others transport you because they have so fully and completely and convincingly stepped into the role to become the character. You know what I mean.

When you are in the thrall of a storyteller with a capital "S" there is no mistake who has declared themselves to be the storyteller. Story moves through them. The teller almost fades away as she becomes the conduit for the story being told. This is, in part, what allows us as the listener to be transported in a virtual journey with the story, the teller and listener becoming one.

As to the rest of us? We polish our platform skills.

Does that mean all is lost? No. If you choose to take on the mantle of storyteller whether at trial, in front of an audience, in a retreat, and so on know that telling a story is not the same as becoming the storyteller. Declare yourself to be a gift to the listener. Tell from a common space where humanity recognizes humanity. Take the listeners on a journey and bring them safely home.

How come this authentic approach is so critical to your storytelling integrity? Storytelling is a matter of trust and relationship between the story, the teller and the listener.

24 July 2012

A: Stories are the stuff of daily life. When we commit to becoming part and parcel of the story we need to tell on behalf of another, the commitment expands our awareness of our humanity. From this place we become increasingly empathetic, compassionate, and relatable to other human beings, more authentic, believable and better at persuading, too.

Some years back I wrote an article with San Diego attorney Jim Parziale entitled, "Once Upon A Client - The Power of Persuasive Legal Storytelling." [Click on the title to access the pdf.] It's a treasure trove of information, thoughts and ideas gained over decades of my storytelling work which became translated into the litigation arena. I bet you will recognize in these words much of what I have been speaking, teaching and writing about for almost 15 years.

I trust that this work will be of help to you and your clients. If you intend to use it, please remember the integrity of attribution.

23 July 2012

A friend recently returned from a trip to Paris. We met at a local cafe for breakfast quiche and lattes so I could see her photos and hear her stories.

After the wonderfully exclusive armchair tour de france, our conversation turned to work. She has seen her hours as a storyteller get cut as school programs have turned away from music, literature, arts and the like. There is no money to fund the extras.

Litigation consulting is no different, I said. Fewer cases are going to trial because they are so costly; lawyers are turning away clients because of new laws on what fees and bills they can collect; lawyers tiring of the rigors of the litigation trail are themselves consulting on cases with colleagues, and the like.

Where's the hope? She reminded me of the prayer: give us THIS day our DAILY bread. While we would love to have the security of weekly or annual bread, it doesn't work like that.

A father who lost his daughter to a drunk driver - the first daughter in the family to graduate high school with honors and go to college - mourned that higher education is no protection.

I continue to revisit the Steve Jobs story: money is no protection from death.

And so it goes.

Why deoderant? I use a form of deodorant that dispenses the product in a dose with a few turns of a little wheel. It's what I need for the day. The toothpaste on the brush is what I need for the day. The water in the bottle, the electricity that fuels my computer, the phone service that allows me to share a call with a sister. It's just enough.

Do I want more? You bet I do. And in the wanting is a humble thanksgiving that my needs are met with assets and resources moment-by-moment.

I am reminded that you can go to a brightly lit theater and not return home. You can date a girl and never know that you will save her life. You can lose a 6 year old daughter on the operating room table.

May we be free from suffering and the root of all suffering - and give us this day our daily deodorant. Thank you.

18 July 2012

ORION Magazine carries a lovely section called The Place Where You Live. Readers are invited to submit a contribution telling about the place where they live. This following piece was printed in the July/August 2012 issue of ORION. You should be able to access it on line when the September/October issue is in print.

Meanwhile, here is Gary Pace's beautifully spoken homage of gratitude to those who stood up to a nuclear site even after construction had begun and halted it - for good:

"Bodega Head, California. I come to the Bodega Headlands often to make offerings and prayers. Offerings to the land - the wild northern California coast - and prayers of gratitude to people who, fifty years ago, had the vision to block construction of a nuclear plant on this spot straddling the San Andreas Fault. During the 1906 earthquake, this coastline moved 15 feet.

Tucked behind dramatic cliffs, and close enough to the ocean for me to hear sea lions and glimpse migrating whales, is a small pond called "Hole in the Head." This crater is the site initially excavated for the plant's foundation; now it only hints at the disaster that could have unfolded. The largest nuclear reactor of its era would have been built on the edge of the fault.

What outrageous hope gave people the courage to believe they could halt construction of a nuclear site even after construction had begun? Who could have predicted their unlikely success, outlined in this understated park sign?

'Proximity of the San Andreas Fault would have significantly increased risks to marine, tidal, and atmospheric environments. Citizens and scientists collected signatures, filed lawsuits, wrote letters, and appeared at hearings ranging from Sonoma County to Washington, D.C. The project was finally abandoned in 1964 after 8 years of controversy and citizen action.'

If it had opened as planned, the reactor would have outlived its utility by now. I would be standing here before the shuttered structures of cooling towers, looking out over the yard littered with barrels of spent fuel rods, a lonely witness to the radioactivity that would persist for scores of human lifetimes. The electricity produced would have long since passed through local residents' light bulbs and dishwashers, and we'd be tapping new sources of power for our contemporary needs.

My thoughts drift to those folks who worked for such a reasonable outcome. As the sea breeze blows across my face, I arrange flowers in honor of the legacy these activists left behind, an ephemeral monument to something that never came to pass."

16 July 2012

Hidden on a back page of the NYTimes instead of prominently displayed on a front page is a piece by Lincoln Caplan, "An Existential Crisis For Law Schools" that bears serious attention by law students, lawyers and, most critically, law schools.

A few decades age you went to law school, took the bar exam, passed the test and got a job. A good job. One that would help pay down that $50 grand of tuition debt. Like many other things in the legal profession - one of my litigator gurus predicts no more trials in 5 or 10 years - the promise of a job after law school has shifted. Excerpt.

"Only 55 percent of 43,735 graduates in 2011 had a law-related job nine months after graduation, said William Henderson of the Indiana University Maurer School of Law, who analyzed recent data from the American Bar Association. Twenty-eight percent were unemployed or underemployed. And at the 20 law schools with the highest employment, 83 percent of graduates were working as lawyers. At the bottom 20, it was a dismal 31 percent.

These numbers are far worse than jobs data going back a generation and should be a deep embarrassment to law schools, which have been churning out more graduates than the economy can employ, indulging themselves in copious revenues that higher tuitions and bigger classes bring in. A growing list of deans acknowledge that legal education is facing an existential crisis, but the transformation to a more sustainable model will be difficult and messy.

The number of law office jobs began to decline in 2004, well before the recession. And demand for new lawyers isn’t expected to grow much even when the economy recovers. Outsourcing of legal work to places like India and greater efficiencies made possible by smarter software to search documents for evidence, for example, are allowing firms to cut the positions of multitudes of low-end lawyers. In 2009, twice as many people passed bar exams as there were legal openings — a level of oversupply that may hold up for years. There is, of course, tremendous need for lawyers to serve the poor and middle class, but scant dollars to pay them.

Law schools have hustled to compensate for these shifts by trying to make it look as if their graduates are more marketable, even hiring them as research assistants to offer temporary employment. But those strategies won’t fix legal education, particularly when students are starting to see that a high-priced degree, financed by mountains of loans, may never pay off. The number of people taking law school admissions tests fell 24 percent in the last two years, to the lowest level in a decade. Law schools will be crushed if they don’t remake themselves, said Frank Wu, dean of Hastings College of the Law at the University of California in San Francisco. “This is Detroit in the 1970s: change or die.”"

TIP: Law firms are slow to change; law schools are even slower. It's up to you to decide what you want and need for your life.

TIP: Do you cut your losses and quit or press on? This post might give you something to think about: "Cut Your Losses Or Finish."

13 July 2012

So there I was working away on business at the computer in the office when the call came.

A swarm had taken up residence in a plum tree in a backyard. The family's two-year old toddler had been sitting at the base of the tree playing happily when the parents noticed what was over his head about 6 feet up.

I was told that the swarm measured about 18 inches across and 12 down.

So now what?

Sometimes you just need to step away and rescue a swarm of bees.

I waited til mid-afternoon, suited up, put my gear in the trunk of the car and drove over to the home. I gotta tell you, this was a beautiful swarm: healthy, quiet, peaceable, looking for a place to call home, raise their brood, have something nutritious close by to eat and a source of water to drink.

Before a swarm leaves the colony with the old queen, maybe some virgin ones, the worker bees gorge on honey. Who knows when and where the next meal will be. The queen is starved to slim down so she can fly. At a signal, the queen and a number of her worker daughters leave home. They may go only 200 yards away and alight in a safe rest stop while scout bees seek new real estate.

In this situation the bees are relatively calm: they are exposed, perhaps chilled, protecting the queen. Of course, it's no excuse to go up and poke them. But the homeowner and I stood just underneath the swarm and watched and listened to the quiet hum.

When I was ready to get to work as a volunteer bee rescuer, the homeowner and her toddler son watched from inside the house. I like to spritz a little honey water on the swarm to give them a bit of food and distract them as they lick off their bodies. I don't use smoke - there is no need. After positioning a tall step ladder under the swarm I balanced a hive body on top and climbed up on the stone wall you see in the photo. Once close to the swarm I gave the branch a big WHACK! to encourage as many of the honeybees as possible to drop into the box in a clump. There was quite a flurry of bees in the air but they were not interested in me. Many of them regrouped on the limb before they realized that the queen was in the box.

Over the next hour we watched as bees stood along the rim of the hive box fanning their wings to let the rest know that the queen was in the box and they better hurry "home." When I was sure that I had just about all of them I covered and secured the hive box, slid it into the trunk of my car and took the swarm to my apiary. Finding a good spot to locate the new colony I removed all the screening and duct tape, reduced the hive entry to the size of a single bee so the colony could defend itself against any robbers, and then sat for a while realizing that at that moment I was the luckiest Lady Bee Wrangler in the world.

It's not a waste of time to break up the day, get outside, take in a breath of fresh air, listen to natural sounds, or even rescue a swarm of bees. Our souls need such times.